by Battis, Jes
I rolled my eyes.
“Now for you, Detective Sedgwick.” Linus turned to him.
Miles gave the lab tech a cool stare. “Just because I’m deaf doesn’t mean that I need some sophisticated gadget to compensate. If you pull a Bluetooth hearing aid out of one of those drawers, I’ll beat your ass down.”
“I’d believe him,” Derrick added, holstering his new gun. “He’s got surprising upper-body strength. And great triceps.”
Miles grinned at him. “Thanks.”
Linus raised his hands in surrender. “No worries, I wasn’t going to suggest anything like that. I do have something I think you’ll like, though.” He slid open a panel in the wall—how did he know where everything was?—and withdrew a small metal box. He flipped open the lid and took out a pair of slim wrap-around sunglasses. The frames looked like they were made of carbon steel, and the lenses were blue crystal and opaque with a dark sheen.
“What are these?” Miles asked suspiciously. He looked so wary that, for a moment, I thought he might sniff them.
“Selena told me about your sensitivity to materia flows,” Linus said, “and I remembered that we’d ordered a pair of these but never gotten the chance to use them. Why don’t you try them on?”
Gingerly, Miles took the shades and slipped them on. His mouth became a small, startled O. “Whoa. This is like—Technicolor. How does it work?”
“The lenses are made of crystallized materia that amplifies your own sight. Even with a perceptive wearer, the traces would normally only show up as different-colored smudges. But your vision is a lot clearer.”
He nodded. “I barely have to concentrate at all. I can see traces that would usually be almost invisible.”
“They might give you a headache after a while. So use them sparingly.”
Miles turned to Derrick. “How do they look?”
Derrick smiled. “Like I want to rip all your clothes off.”
Miles cocked his head. “Excellent.”
“So . . .” Lucian stepped forward. “What do you have in mind for me?”
“Oh. Um . . .” Linus looked a tad embarrassed. “Selena said that you didn’t really need weapons.” He blinked. “She said you were dangerous enough. And we don’t have anything capable of manipulating necroid materia, since we’re not even sure how it works in the first place.”
Lucian gave him a predatorial smile. “Fair enough.”
“Same goes for you,” Selena said to Wolfie, who was looking expectant. “You’re already a spark at the height of your powers. You don’t need any—enhancements.”
Wolfie shrugged. “I kinda figured.”
Selena turned to me. “Okay, Tess. Now that you’re all geared up—what’s the status with that intel from Ontario?”
“Miles can answer that,” I said smugly. He’d come through in a big way.
Miles removed the sunglasses, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. “Tess had me call in some favors. I managed to get ahold of the shipping manifest for Delacroix Holdings, which is based in Hamilton.”
“Do I want to know exactly how that happened?” Selena asked.
Miles smiled wanly. “I don’t think so. At any rate, the manifest indicated that a private courier—licensed by Delacroix—picked up some of Marcus Tremblay’s personal effects from the lab. All the proper signatures are there, but I think some of them were forged. Otherwise, you would have realized what was going on.”
“Where was the package shipped to?”
“I tracked it to some property that Delacroix leases. A house, I think, although there’s nearly an acre of land around it. The property’s in South Delta.”
“Far enough away that we’d never look for it,” I said. “Practically farmland. Does anyone live there now?”
“It’s listed as being condemned and slated for demolition. There’s probably all sorts of caution tape and fences around it to keep people away.”
“It’ll get demolished, all right.” My hand closed around the pistol grip. “We’re going to burn it to the ground.”
“Easy, Tess.” Selena gave me a look. “We’re going to be smart about this. Who knows what traps this thing has laid? We’ll have to surround it first and secure the perimeter. After that, we’ll send both teams in.”
“Great,” Derrick said. “Then we can attack a pureblood demon that has no corporeal form. Easy as Ghost Hunters.”
“I’ll be able to see it . . .” Miles reached for the glasses again. “Especially with these. And Tess can hurt it with those bullets. Materia-based attacks should work. At the very least, we’ve got a shot.”
I slammed the ammo pack into my gun, chambering a bullet. “A shot in hell.” I squinted, aiming at an invisible target. “But that’s all we ever really get.”
22
It was less of a house and more of a crumbling mansion—the sort of place where you could picture Miss Havisham dancing around in widening circles of madness while the living room heaved and collapsed all around her.
The front porch was quietly rotting, and several of the steps leading to the front door had long become dust. The property was surrounded by a fence topped with barbed wire, and CONDEMNED signs had been slapped up in various places, along with messages about an obscure zoning conflict that only the most pedantic observer might try to puzzle out. There was an acre of devastated land around the house, ringed by clumps of dead brown grass and anemic trees whose gnarled roots looked uncomfortably like half-buried limbs, their white bark festering with moss and deep rot. There may have been arable farmland nearby at one point, but a circle of decay seemed to emanate from the very foundations of the place, leaving everything around it desiccated and withered. The air smelled of mold and rotting fruit, and beneath that—like a velvety patina that had been collecting for decades—was the unmistakable reek of iron and blood.
It was perfect. Nothing but a pureblood demon could survive here.
I stood in the yard, flanked by Derrick and Lucian, who both had their eyes trained on the porch as if something evil might explode out the front door the moment they looked away. Probably a fair assumption, although from what we knew so far about the Iblis, sudden attacks didn’t seem to be its style. More like psychological warfare. Miles was examining one of the crippled trees. Wolfie, who was standing a few feet away, glanced at him warily, obviously trying to suss out how his powers worked.
Miles frowned. “They’re not dead exactly. I can still pick up trace amounts of materia in the deep root structures. It’s more like they’re being drained by something. It’s keeping them alive, but barely.”
Wolfie kicked one of the trees with his boot. “Undead is more like it.”
“This whole place is a graveyard,” I muttered.
“It’ll be difficult for you to draw power here,” Lucian said. “Everything’s being leeched away. The Iblis has probably been feeding off this area for some time.”
“There’s always life somewhere,” I replied, touching the hilt of my athame. It was faintly warm. I had to believe in something deep down, beneath the layers of decay, something bright and unkillable. If I couldn’t—what was the point?
Patrick was very still next to me. His skin looked almost translucent in the light, and his eyes were flecked with gold. He was becoming less human with each passing hour. Something had changed when he’d touched Caitlin’s body. He’d absorbed her power somehow, and maybe her memories with it. He seemed constantly lost in thought and distracted, as if his mind was turning over endless possibilities. I only hoped that he’d be able to focus when the time came for action. As loath as I was to use him like this, we needed the strength and speed of a vampire—even a newborn.
Selena emerged from the line of trees, where she’d parked the mobile HQ van. A dozen CORE agents were already deployed around the property. I saw her adjusting a Bluetooth headset, mumbling something beneath her breath. Selena hated technology. I think she would have been happier carrying a double-edged spear.
&
nbsp; We’d all been decked out in matching ballistic vests, which could absorb enough penetrating force to stop a vampire’s teeth (although I figured they’d probably aim higher than our chests). Even Mia had a smaller version that resembled a life preserver, and it made me think that she was six years old and about to visit the waterslides for the first time. Thinking that was better than dwelling on the reality of the situation. At least she’d be safe in the armored van with Selena.
“Everything’s ready.” My boss gave me a look. “What about you, Corday? Any last-minute nerves?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Remember what we talked about. You stay in formation, and you stay in contact. Don’t switch your radio off—not even for a second. Keep together and sweep the house one floor at a time. When you find that thing, do not engage it. Keep back and give us the signal. Reinforcements will come in through every door, window, and ventilation shaft that they can find.”
“Don’t engage,” I repeated numbly.
“Hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face. The gesture startled me, and I really looked at her, as if for the first time. “That’s a fucking order. This thing will take you apart if you try to come at it. We’ve got a whole team of combat-trained mages circling the house, and they know exactly what to do. Understand?”
I nodded.
“Good. Be careful. Do what your training tells you.” She smiled. “You’ll be fine, Tess. I’ll buy you breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“Can we get hash browns?”
“Yes. We can get hash browns.”
I returned her smile. “That’s good.”
Selena tapped a button on her headset. “Mia, are you there?”
The small speaker in my ear crackled. Then I heard Mia’s voice, which made me relax a bit. Only a bit.
“I’m here, Selena. Over.”
“How’s the perimeter look?”
“You have to say ‘over’ each time. Over.”
I chuckled beneath my breath.
Selena rolled her eyes. “How’s the perimeter look? Over.”
“The teams are all deployed. And please call me M-Command. Over.”
“I’m not calling you M-Command. Over.”
“M-Command did not copy. Please repeat. Over.”
“Why did we give her control of the radio again?” Selena asked me quietly.
“To keep her out of trouble.”
“Well, it’s not going to work if I kill her first.”
I heard Mia’s voice again. “Tess, are you going in? Over.”
I smiled. “We are, Mia. Wish us luck. Over.”
There was silence. And then: “Good luck and I love you. Over.”
I closed my eyes. “I love you, too. Over.”
Lucian touched my shoulder. “Time to move?”
I nodded, gesturing for everyone to follow me. “Let’s go.”
We moved carefully up the stairs, avoiding the gaps. The door was unlocked, and I imagined that anyone who ignored the barbed wire, condemned signs, and general air of danger pretty much deserved what they got if they decided to walk in.
The foyer reminded me of a large-scale version of my dad’s garden shed: old pieces of machinery were scattered at the foot of a long flight of stairs, and spiders crawled over everything, ignoring us. Patches of light showed dusty footprints on the floor. There’d obviously been some traffic in this room, and recently.
“No splitting up,” I told Lucian. “We stay together, no matter what. Let’s take the living room first.”
He nodded.
We walked down a short hallway and into what, years ago, might have been called the parlor, but now resembled a landfill. A gutted couch lay on its side in the corner, hemorrhaging gray clumps of stuffing. The floor was thick with debris, mostly wood and glass, but I noticed scraps of cloth and other things that shone dully. I knelt down and picked up something, dusting it off.
“Is that a badge?” Lucian asked.
“Looks like it.” I could just see the letters RCMP stamped into the metal. There were dark brown spots on the corner. Blood. “Looks like they had visitors.”
“Can I see it?” Patrick whispered.
His voice startled me. I’d forgotten that he was even here.
Shrugging, I handed the badge over to him. Patrick squinted at it for a moment. Then, as if it were perfectly commonplace, he licked the spot of dried blood. His tongue was shockingly pink in the dim light of the room.
I shuddered.
“Old blood,” he confirmed. “Months.”
“Wonder where the body is?” Derrick asked. “Maybe the Iblis ate him?”
“I don’t think it eats people.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
I continued through the living room, scanning the walls and floor. Places like this were always full of sliding panels, hidden closets, and trapdoors that led to underground cellars—all cozy spots where a demon might choose to sleep.
If it slept at all.
A door to the right was slightly ajar. I held the Glock level, placing my left hand on the butt of the gun while my right tensed on the trigger. I turned to Lucian.
He nodded.
I kicked the door open.
There was nothing but a grimy bathroom inside. A colony of spiders had made themselves at home in the dirty toilet bowl, and the porcelain sink was cracked down the middle. Filthy water ran down the walls from a leaking pipe. There were spots of skeletonized blood on the white tiles. Whatever started in the living room had obviously continued in here. The end couldn’t have been pleasant.
“It’s fine—”
As I turned, I just caught a glimpse of something blurry, like a shadow crossing the floor. My eyes widened.
“What is it?” Lucian asked.
The shadow flickered again to my right. It had eyes.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
Something slammed into Lucian. He went down with a cry, and I heard growling, like a dog had gotten loose in the house somewhere. But it wasn’t a dog. I saw eyes, teeth, and long fingernails, all blurring into a sheen of cold fury.
Then Patrick was in front of me.
He moved so fast that he seemed to just materialize, not bothering with the intervening space. His form blurred for a second, and then he was between Lucian and the thing on top of him. I realized with a start that the growl had been coming from Patrick’s throat. His eyes were the color of dark pyrite.
The shadow coalesced into a wiry black form with close-cropped hair. Lucian had one arm locked around the vampire’s neck, trying for a choke hold, but the creature’s full weight was on top of him and he couldn’t get the proper leverage. Hot saliva dribbled from the vampire’s mouth, and his eyes were red-rimmed, the pupils astonishingly black, like eclipsed suns. Deep in bloodlust. There’d be no reasoning with him, no chance for parlay.
But Patrick, it seemed, had no desire to talk.
Still growling low in his throat, Patrick reached out, his hands locking around the vampire’s waist. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and then he lifted the vampire clear off the ground, snarling. Lucian rolled away, scrambling to one knee. The vampire howled and thrashed in Patrick’s grip.
He locked both his arms at the elbow. Then he squeezed.
His captive screamed. I heard his ribs cracking. Patrick kept squeezing, tighter and tighter, until I heard a soft plsshh of air escaping. He’d punctured the vamp’s lung. Blood spattered from the vampire’s mouth in three short bursts, like a sprinkler. Then his struggling ceased. Patrick gave his torso a sharp, wrenching twist, like he was uncorking a bottle of champagne, and more blood sprayed from the vamp’s mouth and nose. His eyes went dark. He’d severed the spine.
Patrick dropped the body to the floor.
He stood there for a few seconds, panting. His eyes flickered. Slowly, the golden gleam in them subsided.
“Patrick? Are you . . .” It seemed ludicrous to ask if he was all right.
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��I’ll be fine,” he whispered. “Let’s keep going.”
Miles and Derrick both stared at him with expressions of veiled horror.
My headset crackled. “Tess?” It was Selena’s voice. “We heard a scuffle. What’s your status?”
“We’re okay,” I said. “Patrick dealt with it.”
“Good. We’ll be standing by, then.”
“Guess we know for sure now that it’s employing vampires,” Derrick said. “That must be how it manages those elaborate crime scenes.”
“Sabine.” Her name curdled my stomach.
“Who’s Sabine?” Wolfie asked.
“An undead princess with a real hate-on for Tess,” Derrick replied.
I sighed. “I’ll explain later.”
“First things first,” Wolfie said grimly.
He placed his hands on the vampire’s still-twitching body, and I felt him concentrate. The fire was almost bloodred in the shadows. I turned away from the stench, but it was over in seconds. Wolfie’s fire burned hotter than the usual kind. There was nothing left but a crumbling, calcined skeleton.
A few tongues of flame licked hungrily at the floorboards, but Wolfie simply glared at them, and they winked out of existence. I wondered what it would be like to have such control over my own powers.
“Now we can go,” he said, adjusting his ISASKATOON cap. I noticed that he was the only one who didn’t seem uncomfortable around Patrick.
“You all right?” I asked Lucian.
He nodded, wincing. “I’ll be a walking bruise tomorrow. But I’m good.”
We doubled back slowly, past the flight of stairs and along the opposite hallway, which led to a kitchen and attached pantry. Broken crockery littered the floor like porcelain bone fragments, and the sink was overflowing with debris. The linoleum had peeled away in long strips, and I could see the rotted framework beneath. It felt like we were walking through a decomposing body.
I stepped over the splintered table, peering through the dim entranceway that led to the pantry. A few bottles of preserves were still intact on the shelves, their contents floating in pectin like amniotic fluid. The majority of the jars had been shattered, and lumps of grayish syrup and vegetable matter covered the floor. I scanned the walls, but the room seemed to be a stand-alone, perfectly enclosed.